Yoga Happens Every Day—Temper Tantrums And All

Tag Archives: writing

Allowing my creativity to flow
without making a big deal about it…
No pressure, not trying to impress anyone,
just trying to save my own life
through color, texture, and the freedom
to bring my inner world outside
where it can dance, breathe,
and be painted into being.
I never knew that such simplicity
could yield salvation,
but here I sit feeling grateful
to have another day
to pick up my pen, my brush,
and remember the voice
that quietly speaks within me.

Stuck in a thought
that saysI have no idea what to write
I pause, hesitate,
fingers hovering above the keyboard
with nowhere to go.
I step behind the thought.
I see the rest of the world,
this life.
I see a candle flickering
I hear my husband snoring,
it may snow tonight.
This life is a mystery,
so much to be discovered.
I might see some of it
if I step out of the prison
of thoughts likeI have no idea what to write.
A deep breath expands me,
I am fulfilled.
I never had to write anything,
I do this because I want to.
Realizing this is freeing enough
to pause and smile.
I have no idea what to write?
How silly!
This life writes itself
if I can step back
and simply observe
its perfect unfolding.

I don’t need to be inspired to write.
The story that I need inspiration
keeps me from my inspiration.
All I really need
are open eyes and ears
and heart and mind.
The world provides us
with enough material
for many lifetimes.
The universe, in this moment,
is far richer than we could ever
comprehend.
I stop looking for inspiration,
take a deep breath in,
I let it out.
I am alive.
Realizing this is inspiring enough.

And then it struck me all of a sudden,
I’m not writing for any particular reason at all…
I’m just writing to write.
I do this night after night
not because I have to
but because I want to.
I don’t have to think about it,
I just do it.
It doesn’t take any willpower at all…
it’s almost like breathing–
it just happens.
And I realized,
ah, I’ve taken the pressure off my writing
to be something amazing,
to be something special,
to be something lovely,
to be popular,
to be successful.
And then I thought,What if I could take the same pressureoff of myself?

Realizing I can simply relax and have fun
without needing to impress anyone,
I observe many faces at a party.
Loud music, drinks sloshing here and there;
am I the only one not drinking?
There is a blank book
and an invitation to write
birthday well-wishes,
Aha! Writing! My drug of choice.
Is my sense of relief
at having something to do
some form of avoidance behavior?
I cover a few pages with drawings
and words, glad to be expressing
rather than imbibing.